


F-T's 30 Day NSFW Challenge

by limeblood



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:10:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limeblood/pseuds/limeblood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of prompts filled with Homestuck OTPs.  I'll add new prompts as they're completed.  Chances are it won't be once daily, but I'll try.  If you have any OTP suggestions, send them to filthy-thinkpan.tumblr.com.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clean

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing porn for this fandom, so criticism is appreciated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Naked Snuggling with RoseMary

“Wait, no, not yet,”  
“Rose, my dear, I’ll be right back. I’m just putting on my dressing gown.”  
Pale arms slid around a marred gray waist and refused to be dislodged.  
“Clothes can wait, Papaya,” she giggled, “It’s cold.”  
Kanaya sank back into the cotton sheets and smiled, inhaling the scent of her matesprit post-coitus. It was lovely, a mixture of jasmine and lavender and ivory soap and something that was distinctly Rose. Her skin was smooth and supple, much smoother than a troll’s and it was warm compared to Kanaya’s. Rose tightened her grip on her girlfriend’s waist and kissed her nose lightly. Kanaya smiled and Rose kissed her again, on the lips this time. She tasted much the same a she smelled, sweet and familiar, and Kanaya pulled away after a long moment.  
“Tea?” she asked quietly.  
“Only if you insist upon getting up.”  
Kanaya slid out of bed, leaving a hollow warmth in her wake. Rose pulled the covers tight around herself in an attempt to conserve heat as Kanaya pulled on a silk robe (black with jade green trim, and a rose embroidered on the left breast). When she returned with two cups of steaming earl grey (two scoops of sugar for Rose and a dash of cream for herself) Rose was holding a small book bound in green leather and embossed with an intricate green heart, and she smiled herself. The book had been her gift to Rose on their one-sweep anniversary. It had begun as Roses’s private journal, but had quickly evolved into a book of poetry and prose that the two of them were writing together.  
“Brought that out?” she asked.  
Rose hummed her agreement “I’m feeling a bit poetic, you know?”  
“Well when one has such an inspiring muse as yourself, how could one not?”  
She smiled warmly, taking her mug from Kanaya as she slid back under the covers with her matesprit. Rose pulled a silver flask from a drawer in her bedside table and uncapped it.  
“Actually, Rose, I was wondering…” Kanaya began. “I was wondering if you would mind omitting your human soporifics this time.”  
“Sure, Kanny,” she said, replacing the vial and quirking an eyebrow. “Why?”  
Kanaya took a moment to respond, eventually sighing and saying “I think they change you. I love you Rose, really, no matter how you choose to be, but I don’t want you to have to change yourself. So please try, for me?”  
“Sure, Kan,” she said, setting the flask on the bedside table. Rose shifted, setting her head on Kanaya’s shoulder, sipping her tea. “Does it really mean that much to you?” she asked after a moment.  
“Yes, my dear, it does.”  
“I don’t know if I can.”  
“I do."  
Kanaya nodded pensively, and slowly opened the book of poetry. Flipping to a new page, she wrote at the top “Clean”. Below that she wrote:  
“The deadliest poisons come in the most innocent of bottles.  
Behind the frosted pink glass is the most malicious killer I have ever met.  
The price we pay for relief from pain is a relief from happiness as well.  
Love is exhausted, intelligence jaded, and passion dulled, while the bliss wreaks havoc.  
But the greatest pain is not felt.  
The greatest pain comes from the onlookers, the lovers in return.  
Those who seek what is being washed away.  
Draw you bliss not from a liquid love, but from me,  
Take solace on my breast, not at the bottom of a bottle.  
Allow me to cure the poison that devours your heart.”


	2. Bacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Naked Kisses with JohnDave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out sappier than I was planning. Also, I apologize for any weird tense changes. (and I suck at titles)

It’s not the bright light shifting into your bedroom that wakes you up, nor the glorious smell of bacon, nor the distinct and unfortunate absence of your boyfriend that wakes you up; it’s the need to piss. You roll clumsily out of bed and consider pulling on a robe or something, because you’re pretty completely naked, but you decide against it. Dave doesn’t care if you wear clothes or not, he’d probably appreciate it. He probably hasn’t put on any clothes himself, despite the fact that he’s making bacon, which involves hot oil that does not feel good on one’s dick. But he insists upon making bacon anyway, because he is the fucking god of time or some shit and always wakes up at exactly 6 in the morning and can afford to make breakfast before going to work. It’s Sunday though, which means that you don’t actually have anything to do and could conceivably hang around in the nude all day. Actually, that was starting to sound like a fantastic idea. Yeah.  
You pull yourself out of your monologue and make your way to the bathroom, tripping on a pile of discarded silk rope on the way. Heh, right, the rope. Memories of last night seep back to you like honey, sweet and tinted gold. Last night had been especially nice. You rubbed your wrists, not really sore anymore because of the lotion Dave liked to use, but still sensitive. Last night had been great. And there was the vibrating cock ring. Dave had pulled that out last night for the first time, and despite your initial apprehension, you had really enjoyed it. He was the absolute best boyfriend. It was him.  
You made your way down the hall to the bathroom, trying not to disturb him in the kitchen. He had his wireless headphones in, so he probably wouldn’t have heard you anyway, but it didn’t hurt to be careful.  
Business taken care of, you crept down the hall, on your tiptoes, doing your best impression of a secret agent, and eventually made your way to the kitchen. Not came the difficult part. You creep up behind your boyfriend and quickly slide your arms around his toned waist. He’s taller than you by a few inches, but thinner, and more wiry, while you were broader, so hugs like this are sometimes a bit awkward. He doesn’t even flinch, which means he probably knew it was coming but you power on regardless.  
“Gooooooood morning, Dave!”  
“Same to you Egbert,” he says, turning around and removing his headphones. He pulls the both of you away from the hot stove and runs his hands along your arms, bicep to wrist and back again, over and over.  
“You feelin’ alright?” he asks after a moment.  
“Yeah,” you reply. “I feel fantastic, actually. Last night was mindblowing.”  
He smiles and glances at the bitemarks on your abdomen. “Told you you’d like it.”  
“Yeah,” you say again, resting you forehead against his “I really did.”  
He leans forward the last little bit, pushing his lips against yours softly. It only lasts a moment, but as soon as he pulls away, you dive back in, moving languidly, and with more pressure. His hands slide up your arms again to rest on your shoulders, and then creep into the hair at the nape of your neck. Your arms, still around his waist, tighten slightly as you lean against the counter. It’s slow, but full of passion and wholly contented. Your lips move in a practiced motion that has never dulled, no matter how many times you repeat it. You stay like this, frozen in a moment of cottony sweetness, moving and breathing and just kind of existing together. There comes a moment when you realize that you’re perfectly okay with that. You could stand here forever, with Dave, and be perfectly content. That’s actually a really great idea.  
“Dave?” you say, pulling back just enough to speak, maintaining contact from clavicle to knees.  
He just kind of hums in response, eyelids fluttering, trying to catch his breath.  
“I love you.”  
The gentle ebb and flow of Dave’s breathing stops for a moment before rushing out in a ticklish gust against your face. It’s the first time you’ve said that, you know it, and he knows it. And you really do mean it. He cups your face in his hands, pushing you back so that he can meet your eyes. When he does, there’s a crooked, beaming grin on his face.  
“I love you too, John.”


End file.
